


Story About a Girl

by Clocketpatch



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-25 21:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clocketpatch/pseuds/Clocketpatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The most precious moments come between waking up and falling asleep</p>
            </blockquote>





	Story About a Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Our Lady Peace Song of the same title: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MSxwqdWpZjM

 

I am Clara Oswald. I'm the Impossible Girl.

I have lived so many lives in so many different places.

I am born. I have a childhood. I grow up. Time passes and I do things – I go to school, I go to work, I bake, I take care of children, I travel, I fly spaceships and fight monsters – it can be a breathless whirlwind, or it can be excruciatingly dull. Time passes, and it passes quickly, driving me inexorably towards a choice and a destiny that I never remember until the last possible moment. I suppose that is a mercy.

I am born. I have a childhood. I grow up. For those years, I am only me: Clara. Oswin. Oswald. Someone. A product of my generation and circumstance. I am ordinary.

Then I wake up.

 

-

 

On Gallifrey, I blew into existance on the back of a silver leaf and lived nearly a century. Another life, when I was born among a group of short-lived humanoids on the Fresicious Asteroid, I had only four years between birth and destiny.

As a human, I have never reached my thirtieth birthday.

 

-

 

I don't know where I am. I don't know where I am. _I don't know where I am_.

 

-

 

**7:30**

Beep. Beep. _BEEP_.

Wake up? Nah, keep sleeping. Snooze button smash time.

  **7:48**

 Wake up? No, it can't possibly be time for that yet.

  **8:02**

 Wake up? The drinks with Shireen last night say otherwise, but… is that the time? _Is that the time?!_

 

Clare Ossin glared at the brazen red display of her alarm. Time was refusing to accommodate her hang-over and now the odds were stacked fairly high that she'd be late to work.  Groaning, Clare disentangled herself from her sheets. They'd wrapped around her like a pair of cotton anacondas. She had a pounding headache and a taste in her mouth like something had died in there.

 "Whiskey is, officially, the most disgusting substance in the entire universe," Clare declared to her room while silently vowing to never again be suckered into another of Shireen's pub night extravaganzas. Professor Kitty, who'd been rudely awakened when Clara threw off the sheets, mewled his agreement. Clara spared a moment to scratch him under the chin before stumbling towards the shower. She accidentally woke her flatmate in the process.

Nina's pale hair was mussed and she was still in her dress from the night before. She'd evidently fallen onto the loveseat some hours previous and decided to crash there rather than make her way into the bedroom.

"Rise and shine," Clare said.

Nina made some rude noises in response, but, when Clare emerged from the shower twenty minutes later, a warm mug of ginger tea and a plate of fried eggs with a side of Tylenol were waiting for her.

"Oh my stars," Clare said, sliding into a chair. Professor Kitty waltzed around her legs, purring.

"You're going to be late anyway," Nina told her.

"Easy for you to say, your class doesn't start until ten."

"Just bake them something tomorrow, and all will be forgiven. That poufy cake thingy you make that doesn't work half the time but tastes like chocolate fluffy splendor when it –"

Clare pushed the eggs around with her fork. "Nina, first off, it's a soufflé, not a poufy cake thingy. Second, about 80% of the people I work with are on some kind of diet. Third… I'm about two seconds away from heaving so maybe key down the talk about food?"

"But people on diets love poufy cake things the most!" Nina said, gently wrapping her arms around Clara from behind.

"Nina! Did you not even hear me?" Clare put down her fork and pushed the plate away. "Are eggs good for cats?"

"Come on, just choke them down. They'll make you feel better," Nina said, "It's the grease, best thing for it. You have to trust me, because I've got more experience."

"I know you have more experience," says Clare. She lifted the mug and downed the tea and Tylenol in a gulp. "But I've got a bus to catch, and at the moment that's more important."

 

-

 

Clare missed her bus. It was well past 9:00 AM by the time she reached her stop and started towards work. She was still ordinary. Just a shop girl – well, hopefully still a shop girl if this didn't get her sacked – contentedly living a normal, slightly slacking life. She found herself half jogging down the street to try to make up for lost time.

As she ran, the wind picked up, but that was easily discounted: it usually seems windy when you're running. There was a strange groaning-crashing sound as well, but it was easily lost in the blare of rush hour traffic. There was also the matter of the tall, blue box tucked into an alley; The tall, blue box that hadn't been tucked into said alley five minutes previous; That hadn't existed five minutes previous.

Clare wouldn't have noticed. Clare was hung-over and dizzy and rushing.

Clara noticed.

And awoke.

 

-

 

I don't know where I am. I don't know where I am. _I don't know where I am_.

 

-

 

"You're late," Rose sing-songed as Clare made her way to the counter. "And you look like death. Honestly, the Grim Reaper could take fashion tips."

"It's your fault for introducing me to Shireen."

"You didn't let her take you out did you? You did, didn't you? Oh my god. Clare! You do know that I have to say it?"

"Am I supposed to fold these shirts or these shirts?" Clare asked.

"I told you so," said Rose.

"Because no one else seems to have noticed I'm in late yet, and I'm not going to jinx that by asking Derek for a task list."

"You've got to tell me everything. Did you take Nina? You do look absolutely knackered though. Is everything okay? Because you don't just look hung-over. I mean, you keep staring at those shirts like you've never seen them before. The yellow ones have been priced. I'll get the rest in a minute. You're sure you're fine?"

"Yes!" said Clare.

"Uh huh?"

"Do you need a cat?" Clare asked Rose in an attempt to get the conversation somewhere, anywhere else.

"What?"

"My flatmate Nina, her brother's boyfriend's mate Chris just had a litter and you know how it is trying to find homes. You used to have a cat, right?"

"Yeah, but the estate changed its pet rules. We got a home for ours, but there's strays everywhere now. Had to nail our flap shut."

"Oh," says Clare. She finished the yellow pile and waited patiently for Rose to finish pricing the next lot. "Uh, would you do the lottery tonight? I've got to be home early."

"You stumble in half an hour late and expect me to do your job for you?"

"Yes?" Clare said, trying to give a winning smile.

"Fine," says Rose, "but the next time Shireen invites you out on a weeknight say no, or else invite me and we can both get sacked together."

 

-

 

Clare didn't have plans, but Clare was a phantom quickly fading. Clara was awake and the Doctor was in trouble. She wasn't sure how yet, or where, but when lunch time rolled around Clara went back to the tall, blue box. The TARDIS refused to let her in, but that was okay, because Clara knew that he wasn't inside. She went to a fast food place across the street to wait. She knew it wouldn't be long.

 

-

 

I don't know where I am. I don't know where I am. _I don't know where I am_.

 

-

 

I am Clara Oswald. I'm the impossible girl. I'm standing in line waiting to buy a milkshake. The year is 2005 and I am twenty three years old and about to save the Doctor. But I am also sixteen years old and sitting in class somewhere in Lancashire, unaware that this is the last normal day of my life.

This morning, I was Clare Ossin, and that was nice, but that life is over. I am awake now, but I am never awake for long. Once I save the Doctor, this life will end.  That's okay. That's destiny; for the me buying a milkshake, and for the me sitting in class oblivious.

The line shuffles forward. I think: strawberry. It doesn't really matter, but this might be the last milkshake I have in this life, and I don't know how many lives I have left. I keep an eye on the street outside.

I know it won't be long, but waiting can be so hard. I don't go back to work after my lunch break finishes. I travel up and down the street, ducking in and out of shops and nibbling at a giant cookie that I picked up somewhere along the way. At least the headache from last night is mostly gone. Clare won't have a job after this, but Clare will soon be passing out of existence. I wonder who will remember her when she's gone. Shireen? Professor Kitty? Rose? _Nina_?

There's usually a Nina. I'm beginning to think that she's some kind of fragment as well, because I've met her so many times. How many people are there like me? Little bits and pieces scattered through time and space?

Maybe we should form a club.

Hours pass, and I try to stay on guard and aware, but I am off-guard and as shocked as everyone else when the explosion happens. The sound is so loud it rumbles up from the pavement. People scream. People run outside to see what is going on and I run with them. Henrick's is on fire. People are talking and crying and taking photos. The very first responders are arriving on the scene, sirens and lights blazing.

And me? I'm running to the fire. _I don't know where I am_. But I know where he is, and I know that it is my job to save the Doctor.

 

-

 

It wasn't difficult for Clara to sneak around the emergency personal. Only a few minutes had passed and they hadn't had time to finish barricading the area. Plus, she had the advantage of familiarity. She knew where the employee entrance was and she had a valid swipe card.

The explosion had been on the top floor, so that was where Clara headed. The sprinklers were going off and the shop dummy's looked oddly pathetic in their drenched designer labels. Cardboard displays were warping and coming down from the downpour. It was surreal seeing the shop like this. She walked by the rack of yellow shirts Clare had folded and priced with Rose earlier in the day.

 _Rose_. Clara felt a passing stab of guilt. Rose would've been in the building after hours getting the lottery money down to Wilson, but Wilson worked in the basement and the explosion had come from the roof. Maybe, just this once, luck would favour the innocent?

Clara ran up the still escalators, past children's wear, lingerie, and seasonal décor. A pile of saturated stuffed rabbits looked at her mournfully. Clara kept going, upwards and onwards. The smoke was becoming noticeable. The constant ringing of the fire alarm made Clara want to jam her fingers in her ears, but she needed her hands for balance because the wet floor was slick and she'd fallen more than once already. She turned a corner and there he was.

It was the cookery department. He was sprawled facing towards the fire stairs. He'd been well on his way to escaping when Dr. Simeon had come up behind him with the frying pan. Cast iron to the back of the skull. Ouch.

Clara wondered if she'd meet Simeon this time. She didn't always. Often enough, he'd inflict his injury and be gone immediately after. He didn't have any staying power past his motive: hurt the Doctor, destroy the Doctor, and then repeat.

Clara dropped to her hands and knees beside the Doctor and gave him a gentle shake. He was all leather and wool and hard lines. Clara couldn't imagine this man in a bow tie. He groaned and muttered something that, while incoherent, still managed to sound plenty rude.

"Oi! That's no way to talk to your rescuer," Clara told him.

Her mind whirled as she tried to figure out exactly how she was going to rescue him. A sheet, she thought, and some rope since he didn't have a convenient scarf this time, and oh look, there were camping supplies two aisles over.

"Why do you have to be so tall?" Clara asked, doing her best to shove his dead weight onto a tarp. "I know for a fact that you come in shorter varieties, but nooo, it's always the tall yous who end up needing to have their overly large, overly unconscious Time Lord selves dragged out of danger."

"Run for your life," he said.

"Hell-o, was that a sign of your walking ability returning?" Clara asked. She bent down close to his face. The Doctor remained still and more or less unresponsive. "Apparently not. Well, don't come crying to me when you get bruises."

It took a few minutes to secure him to the tarp. By the time Clara finished, the smoke was thicker and the air was hotter. Clara stood and grabbed the ropes. The Doctor was laid out behind her like a sledge. She started pulling.

"Stupid ape," he muttered.

"You could stand to lose a few pound yourself, thanks," Clara told him, struggling with each step.

Suddenly, with a low whine, the emergency lighting cut out and the shop was plunged into the darkness. Well, almost darkness. There was an ominous flickering coming from somewhere behind Clara's left shoulder. She absolutely refused to turn and acknowledge it. One step at a time. The exit sign over the fire stairs was still glowing red. If she could get him that far then gravity would do half the work going down.

One step. Two steps. The fire alarm had stopped as well, and the sprinkler system was down to a trickle. The moisture it had left behind was steaming up. There was a loud crash and the ominous flickering bloomed into a blaze. Clara looked back. There was an inferno taking up half the floor and it wasn't being tardy in making its way towards them. Three steps. The floor was creaking. Four steps. A series of small explosions rocked the camping aisle. Five steps. Almost there.

The Doctor started thrashing in his make-shift sledge.

"I didn't mean it," he said. "I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it..."

Clara could've screamed in frustration, but she was coughing too hard. It was hard enough dragging a non-wiggling Time Lord. This was impossible, and even if she was the Impossible Girl, she was still barely five feet of Impossible Girl and he was six and then some of kicking, yelling Time Lord. She dropped the ropes and went around to check him. It was so hot; like being in an oven.

Soufflé girl was going to be baked this time.

"If you could wake up properly anytime now," Clara said urgently.

"I didn't mean it…" he muttered thickly.

"That's nice, but I do mean it."

His eyes opened. They were unfocused and very blue.

"I watched it happen," he said, and he didn't sound like the Doctor. His fists clenched and his head jerked upright, the tendons in his neck jutting out. "I _made_ it happen."  
  
"Are you awake then?" Clara asked, feeling more frightened of him than the flames.  
  
He looked at her and he was alien and implacable and unforgiving. Then he shook his head and he was the Doctor again. He managed prop himself up on his left elbow and steal a glance backwards at the inferno. His brow creased.  
  
"Are we on fire?" he asked, sounding incredulous and not at all afraid.  
  
"Not if I can help it," said Clara.  
  
He grinned. "Fantastic!"

Then he tried to stand up.

"You've tied me to a tarp."

"Well, you were too bloody tall to carry," Clara told him, as they both worked double-time to get him undone and upright. "Come on, on your feet."

He was the opposite of steady and his weight on her shoulders nearly over-balanced both of them, but they made it to the fire stairs, and for that Clara gave silent thanks to whatever gods of the universe were watching over them. Getting down the stairs was a different matter. It was a mad, dizzy, unsteady, half-falling dash and by the time they reached the bottom Clara was gasping and wheezing and he was muttering about anti-plastic and Nestene spores.

The actual exit from the building at the bottom of the stairs was locked (and since it was a fire exit, Clara had a suspicion that Dr. Simeon had stuck around a bit longer than usual this time), but a quick wave of the sonic got it open. They more or less collapsed together out into the cool night air.

Clara fell onto her hands and knees, grazing her palms on the pavement, gasping to fill her lungs. The Doctor's hand rested between her shoulder blades.

"There's medical over that way," he said. Clara could see the flashing lights out of the corner of her eye. She shook her head and continued coughing.

"That's smoke inhalation. S'nasty," he told her. "You need to be checked out."

"I'll be fine," she said, even though the pavement seemed to be swaying and jogging under her heads and she felt ten times more drunk than she had at Shireen's party.   

"You think?" he asked, dripping sarcasm. "Alright, what's your name then?"

"Clare," Clara said, "Clara... Clare Ossin. I work at the shop. I _worked_ at the shop, when I was Clare. Now I'm Clara. Clara Os..."

"Confusion, common symptom."

"I am not. I'm fine. I'm… just _run_ , run you clever boy and remember, and… and… don't be afraid of the big bad wolf." Where on earth had _that_ come from? He was right, she was delirious.

"Right then, I don't have time for this. Clara-Clare Ossin, thank you for your assistance, but I think that you'll have to trust the Doctor on this one." He straightened up so that his hand no longer touched her back and started shouting for help. Clara heard running feet. The world seemed to tilt sideways and he dissolved into the night leaving the smell of damp wool and singed leather.

Medics surrounded her. Clara felt herself being lifted onto a gurney. An oxygen mask settled over her face. It tasted sweet, like a strawberry milkshake.

 

-

 

I don't know where I am. I don't know where I am. _I don't know where I am_.

 

-

 

March 5, 2005

 

I am Clara Oswald. I'm the impossible girl. I blew into this world on a leaf, and now I've landed in a hospital bed.

A thin screen divides me from the next patient over. Her name is Christine Maitland and she's a good friend of the family. The doctors don't think she has much time left, but they're wrong. She's going to pull through. This time, anyway.

 

_..Fire then spread throughout the store. Fifteen fire crews are in attendance though it's thought there is very little chance of saving the infrastructure…_

 

Christine has the TV on. She and her guest are discussing the "terrorist attack" in hushed tones. They don't know that I was involved. They don't know who I am. They mustn't know. I wish they could.

"It's terrible," my mum says, "sometimes I wonder what kind of world my daughter is going to live in."

"At least she has a strong guiding light to see her through it," Christine says.

I cry, silently, because I did. I had such a strong light, and in a few hours she'll be gone. After leaving the hospital, she'll go downtown to do a bit of last minute shopping for my dad's birthday. Then the attack will happen, and she'll be shot down.

"I want you to watch over Angie and Artie for me," Christine says.

My mother makes a promise that she won't be able to keep. I'll keep it for her.

"I will," I say. My voice sounds raspy and wrong.

"Who's that?" my mum asks.

"A young woman," Christine says. Her voice drops to a whisper, "She was in a fire. No one's come in to see her."

And then, suddenly, the thin curtain is pushed back.

"Oh my stars. You look just like my daughter."

I cry and turn my face away, because I cannot save her.

"Are you alright?" she asks.

I want to tell her that I'm not alright. I'm falling. I'm falling and _I don't know where I am_. Expect, right now, I know exactly where I am.

I look at my mum, and I know that soon she will be gone. I couldn't save her. He couldn't save her. I look at her smile and her dark hair. Everyone always said that we were so much alike. I look and I know that, even though I can't save her, this short time is still precious, because I'm seeing my mother again when I thought I never would.

"Your daughter is very lucky," I tell her, "to have a mother like you."

She looks confused, and that makes sense, because she doesn't know who I am. I am only a stranger with a passing resemblance to someone she loves. Still, she says exactly the right thing, the thing that I've wanted to hear her say for years as I've clutched her worn old book of a 100 places and cried myself to sleep, as I've travelled with the Doctor, as I've fallen through life after life after life saving him –

"I'm very lucky to have a daughter like her. I love her very much."

She talks to me for a few minutes, and then asks after the nurse to make sure I'm getting enough attention. She squeezes my hand reassuringly. Then she leaves.

"I love you mum," I whisper.

 It doesn't matter if she doesn't hear. She knows.

 

-

 

I'm Clara Oswald. I'm the Impossible Girl. _I don't know where I am,_ but I will always be grateful for this one life out of the thousands, and the time I got a chance to say goodbye.

Now, I sleep. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kaydeefalls' Eleventy fest requests: _Clara encounters any past companion of the Doctor as the Impossible Girl_ and _Clara's mum died on the day the Autons attacked in Rose_
> 
> Sorry about the switching tenses and POV. The story refused to be told any other way.


End file.
